by Freida Marie Crump
Greetings from the Ridge.
I never rake leaves. I rake guilt.
To tell the truth, there’s nothing lovelier to my eyes than a November yard filled with the oranges and reds and yellows of fallen leaves, but when I see my palate of autumn colors blow over into my neighbor’s freshly manicured yard… well, I go out and rake up my guilt.
Makes me wonder whoever